I think if you visit this site long enough, and I wind up documenting my relationship with enough films, you’ll find I’m not hesitant at all to admit when a film makes me cry. Hey, that’s to the films credit, right? I mean, a) I’m not Dick Vermeil, it really takes something to get me going and b) If a movie’s sole purpose is to illicit that kind of audience response – if I know it’s a “Tear Jerker”? I stay away. I’m just not interested. Thus, I narrow the field. So in combination, those two things add up to making my crying at movies a rare enough event that I’m not ashamed to admit when it occurs.
So when I tell you that “Dear Zachary: A Letter to a Son About His Father” made me cry, I want you to understand this… by cry, I mean I BAWLED. WEEPING is a better word. I was a spastic, blubbering mess.
And yet, I recommend it to you VERY highly. Read on to hear why.